Burst of Crimson
by CelticGames4
Summary: Five years after the boys have been rescued. The first thing Ralph recognized was the familiar stare of those icy blue eyes that drilled into him. The second thing were the freckles, which he had always intended to count someday. The third thing, the red scar that tore from his ear, across his cheek to his chin.


_A/N: Trigger warning for self harm, mentions of suicide, and violence. And angst._

* * *

~.~.

He visited on Piggy's birthday.

Ralph had already cried that day. He had cried last year on the day. He had cried the year before. The dates went by in a gray haze, but every once in a while the number and month would mean something, and Ralph would realize that yet another year had passed since they were all rescued. There was no more war, but Ralph still lived in fear.

Some of the boys had gone back to normal lives. The littluns never came around anymore. As for the others, Ralph didn't care. He had been sent away from their institution a long time ago, and for good reason.

He was sitting in the cafeteria and nibbling on the last piece of candy he'd received from Piggy's aunt. She was a kind woman, though absent-minded, and Ralph had caused a lot of ruckus to find her after everything had happened. Indeed, it took them almost three years to find her. The only way they had the chance was because of Ralph. The fair-haired boy would sit, locked up in his tiny, prison-like room, and draw. He didn't know Piggy's real name at all, but he remembered every detail so clearly.

 _He wouldn't come out. The others learned to leave him alone. The caretakers left food in front of his closed door, knowing better than to open it. He was hard at work. He was drawing. Every curve in his face, every lash on his eyes, every wisp of hair on his head. Ralph could barely recall how Piggy looked when they'd first wrecked, but he remembered how he looked the morning of his death. Ralph so often wished he could forget, but he couldn't._

 _Ralph would trace every detail, add shading, then stand up and pace around and then examine his work._

 _It looked closer to Piggy than the others, but something wasn't right. Ralph knelt back down, thinking maybe it could be saved. His pencil lightly grazed the paper as he added the cracks into one side of the glasses, as best as he could remember them. Then, he got up and paced again._

 _When he came back around and looked down, he realized that it wasn't right at all. It might have looked at Piggy but Ralph couldn't possibly translate the mature look of his eyes on a piece of paper. Frustrated and filled with heartbreak and rage, Ralph took the paper and ripped it, ripped it into pieces._

" _He's dead!" Ralph shouted through sobs. "He's dead and gone and I'll never know who he was!" He kept shouting and sobbing, ripping up the paper into tiny pieces and throwing it in the air._

 _He collapsed on his bed and hid under the covers, and suddenly he was back on the island, hiding for his life, a hunt being called with a stick sharpened on both ends. He could hear footsteps coming nearer to him. Someone breathing. Ralph froze under his covers, steadying his breath._

Don't scream.

You'll get back.

 _It wasn't a true threat. It was one of the caretakers._

" _Ralph. Ralph, you're alright."_

" _Don't touch me!" the fair-haired boy shouted and sobbed. "Piggy's dead! Don't touch me!"_

" _Calm down," she said gently. "There is no threat here."_

" _They're dead and the rest of them are all bloody damn savages!" he sobbed into his hands. He felt a prick and suddenly felt sleep pulling at him as his heartrate slowed and he closed his eyes._

Now, he was eating a chocolate bar, but chocolate didn't hold the same excitement as it did when he was a boy.

Ralph had tried to go home. He couldn't live there, though. He was constantly having nightmares and fits, and he couldn't do that to his parents. Now, they visit him frequently. He tells them yes, he's doing well, maybe they'll discharge him soon, yes, he's taking his meds, yes, it's all well here. They knew he was lying.

Piggy's aunt was absent-minded, but so was Ralph. Every time she told him Piggy's real name, he would try to remember, hold onto it like some kind of reality, but like everything else, it slipped away. All that he could think about was the fire. The island. The memories. He didn't want to do anything. He didn't hold contact with his friends. He didn't reach out to his parents. The pills he'd had to take for the past months were hidden in his bottom left desk drawer. He didn't like them and he didn't want them, so he hid them. Even when the caretakers watched, he could just let it fall down into his sleeve and pretend he swallowed it. They were so easy to fool. They didn't really care.

The cafeteria was empty by now, the others having gone to classes or to take some time outside or back to their rooms. Ralph liked the cafeteria, though, especially when it was quiet. Besides his room, it was the only place he could relax in. He still had class, he still took tests and got back to his education, but every once in a while he would see something that would trigger a memory. Even the happy memories were black and white by now.

Ralph was numb. He couldn't feel happiness. He didn't have hope. Everything was dull and gray and it would stay that way for the rest of time. He would never find happiness again. He would never adventure again. He would never laugh again. He would never be human again.

Someone walked in, but Ralph didn't really regard him much. That is, until he sat across from Ralph slowly. The stranger, who appeared close to Ralph's age, had black hair in an undercut, and stared at the table. Ralph's heartbeat started to speed up.

"Who are you and what do you want?" Ralph asked, scowling.

The stranger looked up. The first thing Ralph recognized was the familiar stare of those icy blue eyes that drilled into him. The second thing were the freckles, which he had always intended to count someday. The third thing, the red scar that tore from his ear, across his cheek to his chin.

"Not so easy to tell me apart 'cause of the hair, eh?"

Ralph stood up quickly. "I thought I told you to stay the bloody hell away from me!" he was shouting by now, and tears pricked at his eyes. "If I'd known it was you I would've left before I even spoke!"

"Wonderful. Just the reunion I was hoping for," Merridew said quietly. Now that Ralph knew it was him, he could visualize the mask of red and green and white covering his face.

" _Reunion_!?" Ralph shrieked, squeezing his eyes shut. "You think this is a bloody _reunion_!?"

"Ralph, please-"

"You tried to _murder_ me! I still have nightmares about it! I still miss Piggy! I bet you didn't even remember it's his bloody goddamn birthday today!" Ralph knew his cheeks were blotchy and his eyes were puffy as tears pooled out of his eyes, but he didn't care anymore if Merridew saw him cry. He didn't care about anything anymore.

"That was five years ago. Please. Just listen to me."

"Listen?! And hear what?! And what, _forgive_ you!?"

"No, just listen."

"You're a savage! You're a bloody _savage_! You're a bloody goddamn savage that was hunting me down! You're a bloody goddamn savage that killed a nine-year-old! You're a bloody goddamn savage that killed an innocent boy and has the audacity to try and make me forgive you on his bloody goddamn birthday!" Ralph sobbed and screamed. He curled up into a ball on the floor.

"Don't scream," he whispered, voice quivering, "You'll get back…"

He stopped when he heard a sniffle come from above. He looked up at the electric lights of the ceiling, and closed his eyes, listening to the silence. No breeze, no palm trees, just silence. Except for small sobs from above. Ralph slowly got to his feet and watched Jack Merridew put his face in his hands and sob. His sleeve sagged a little bit and Ralph could see red lines that could've been fresh, could not have been. He didn't want to ask.

When the icy blue eyes looked back at him, they were red and puffy. Ralph tried not to think about how much it must've taken for Jack Merridew to cry in front of another human being. He hated this person. Ralph couldn't forget what Jack did. It was sick.

"I'm sorry, alright?!" Jack sobbed quietly. "I didn't come to make you forgive me. I didn't come to try and make us friends again. I didn't come to tell you how much I…" he bit his lip and continued. "I came to tell you I'm fucking _sorry_. I don't want your bloody forgiveness. I still haven't forgiven my goddamn _self_."

Ralph slid slowly back down and took a seat again.

"After I got put straight I was too scared to go back home," he said quietly, tapping his fingers on the table. "I tried to keep in contact with some of the little guys, but…" he shook his head. "They were scared. They were all scared. Some of 'em wouldn't stop calling me chief."

Ralph felt vomit push up at his throat that he pushed back down. "Shut up. I don't want to think about it."

"You haven't escaped it, have you?"

"Shut up!"

"I haven't either. It's scary when the beast is hunting. But even harder to process is the realization that the beast is you."

"You are a beast," Ralph says, "A bloody beast, a thief, a stealer of _lives_ -"

He was cut off by another sob from Jack. "I _know_ that's what I am! Thanks for the reminder! In case you haven't realized, Princess, you've already left your mark that brands me for what I really am." He put a finger up and traced the scar the whole way across his jaw to his chin as violently as if he were slashing it with a knife.

 _Ralph was wearing a gray hoodie that was way too big and a pair of jeans that was far too big around the waist. He hadn't realized how thin he had gotten until he put them on. His hair had been cut, he'd taken a bath, brushed his teeth, and looked like the same Ralph from before… Almost. He was much skinnier, much bonier. He was also much more hollow. The look in his blue eyes was dark and dull. He was slouched. He was sad._

 _He was sitting in a cafeteria much like the one he was in now and eating food quietly. It tasted good but Ralph's appetite wasn't very big. He poked the vegetables with his butter knife. It still felt weird in his hands._

" _Hey! Ralph!" he looked up and saw the boney figure with flaming hair coming towards him. His hair had been cut, the paint washed off, and he was wearing the same clothes as Ralph: a gray hoodie that was too short for him and showed some of the navy T-shirt he was wearing underneath, and the belt around his jeans. Unlike Ralph, though, his feet were bare. They still had some dirt underneath the toenails._

 _It was the little things that set Ralph off. His sight was blurred as he went in survival mode. "Stay away from me!" he shouted. "Just leave me alone!"_

" _Hey, I'm not gonna hurt you," Jack said condescendingly. Like Ralph was stupid for acting this way. Like he was being a crybaby about it._

" _Stay away!"_

" _Come on now, you're being batty over it," Jack said, taking a step closer and reaching out to touch him. Ralph screamed and slashed the other boy across the face with the knife, causing Jack to stumble backwards as he started to bleed from the cut. His blue eyes were wide with shock and looked hurt, betrayed._

" _I want to go far far away from you and never see you again, Jack Merridew! I hope you're happy now! I hope you're satisfied! I hope you realize what you've done!" Ralph sobbed. "Never come near me again!"_

 _Ralph turned around and stormed out of the room, his decision made, leaving Jack behind with teary eyes and a bloody face._

"Maybe you were right. Maybe I should've just never come back." The words may have had a slight bite to them, but mostly sounded hurt.

"Maybe," Ralph said irritably, causing more tears to roll down Jack's cheeks.

"Have you taken meds?"

"I don't need meds! I'm not batty!"

"Yeah. I haven't either."

"Shut up."

"Aren't you going to ask about the others?"

"I don't care about them," Ralph says. "They abandoned me. Why should I care about them?"

"Roger's dead."

Ralph choked. "I don't want to hear about it."

"His own hand."

"What?!"

"Went to his room, guzzled alcohol and overdosed. Wrote me a letter about it. Wanted to get away, and," he shrugged. "Did."

"Lucky him," Ralph muttered miserably.

"I wouldn't have pegged you as the kind to give up," Jack said. His voice took a new tone, almost trying to be playful, or flirty.

"I wouldn't have pegged you as the kind to murder people," Ralph said quietly, which caused Jack to draw back out of hurt.

"Sameneric are okay at least. From what I've heard. Back in school. The littluns are alright. Give them toys and they'll barely remember any of this."

"Lucky them," Ralph repeated.

"Bill and Maurice are back home. They've stopped talking to me."

"I don't blame them."

Jack hissed, lips twitching into a scowl. "Robert's not too bad either."

"I don't care."

"You should. Nobody understands what we've been through but each other-"

" _We_!? There _is_ no we in any of this! Maybe there was, but no longer! You hunted me! You were going to cut my _head_ off! Don't you go telling me about we! There's you, there's me! No we! Alright?"

"But we-"

Ralph cut him off, slamming his palms on the table and standing up. "Shut _up_! All you do is cause trouble!"

"I haven't done anything!" Jack said, doing the same as Ralph.

Ralph released sobs. "All you do is hurt me! It's all you've _ever_ done!"

Jack froze, and Ralph could see the stare of those icy blue eyes turn from intense to destroyed in half a second. More tears escaped them, brushed away by his lashes. "Is that how you always felt?"

Ralph sunk slightly, taking a deep breath. "Maybe not. But it's all that I remember."

"Could I make you remember me differently?"

Ralph scowled at him. "No." He crossed his arms. He couldn't deny that some of the weight had been lifted off of his chest from letting it out to Jack, but he wasn't about to admit it. "Sucks to you. Sucks to your high C sharp." The mood of the conversation shifted to something a little bit lighter.

"I can't hit it anymore, now, you know? I'm glad I can't."

"Yeah…" Ralph took inventory of how Jack changed over the years they had been apart. His features were more chiseled and manly, and his new haircut was… Really not bad. He felt the tips of his ears went red and he looked away. "Have you stopped singing then?"

"Not completely. I've started to learn guitar and piano. Music therapy, they say. Maybe it makes me less batty. Maybe it fuels my self-hatred. Who knows?"

"I've been going through art therapy."

"Yeah, they released an article, after you released the drawings of…"

"Yeah."

"It was really good. Really accurate. Captured him."

"It took forever to get that right," Ralph said quietly.

"It was really good though."

"Thanks."

"Are you gonna draw Simon?"

"No. I hate thinking about it too much."

"Maybe it'd help."

"It didn't."

The coldness came back over them.

"If you want me to leave you alone, then I will." Just noticing the place his sleeve drooped, Jack hurriedly pulled the sleeve back over his wrist. "I just thought I should come…" He reached up and wiped at his cheeks, his face becoming red with embarrassment at crying. Ralph was taken back to the island, tensing and looking away, his thin lips tight.

"No. You can come back." He never thought he'd say it. He didn't want to. But something about this time had given him a sense of peace that he hadn't had before. Some kind of letting go of all these emotions. Even if it was hard to look into his eyes. "Next time make yourself useful and bring some cigarettes and a lighter, would you?"

Jack's now-black eyebrows raised. "Still obsessed with making smoke, are you?" He'd pushed it too far and he could see it in Ralph's glare. The lazy smirk he had been wearing faded back into a sad expression. "Right. I'll do that." He stood up, and so did Ralph.

"In the meantime, just take your goddamn medication, would you?"

"Shut up," Ralph said.

"Same place, same time next week." Jack said.

He gave a curt nod, swiveled on his foot, and left. Ralph just watched him go, stunned.

He still wasn't entirely sure what just happened, but for a second with Jack there he felt something, some kind of spark of emotion. It had set the whole world red, but red was a color against the grays and blues that Ralph had been experiencing for years and years.

He wanted more. He wanted more colors. He wanted more emotions. He wanted more life.

And he hated Jack Merridew and was disgusted by him, but at least the savage made him _feel_ something.

That's what Ralph wanted. And even if it meant diving into memories that are painful, Ralph was willing to do it if that's what it took.

As Merridew himself had said, he's not the kind to give up.

~.~.

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 _ **A/N: Here it is, my first attempt at LoTF fanfiction! If anyone reads this, reviews are very appreciated! I wanna know what you think! Did you like the characterization? The plot? The headcanons?**_

 _ **Also, would you like me to write another chapter from Jack's POV? Or leave it as a one-shot? I still don't know what I wanna do with it. So yeah, reviews are much appreciated!**_


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